


How the Cards Fall

by nonbinarycoded



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: canon has been slow roasted @350 and carved for juicy bits, how do you keep pulling the fool i dont even have that many of those, working title for this was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 15:17:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14083764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinarycoded/pseuds/nonbinarycoded
Summary: A carnival had made its way into Whitestone, and if Percival was going to be forced to go, he may as well find something interesting to do.





	How the Cards Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I know that the time differences mean Percy would be elderly or dead by the time Molly was alive and doing shows, and that they’re from two entirely different continents so would reasonably never meet, however, and this is _vital:_
> 
> My city now.

It started with a flyer.

 _Fletching and Moondrop’s Travelling Carnival of Curiosities_ , it advertised in garishly bright lettering. The flyers had practically materialized overnight, pasted on every door, alley wall, lamppost, stray animal—several were found hanging from the branches of the Sun Tree. There wasn’t a spot in Whitestone one could stand without being assaulted by gaudy font choice and an eye-melting array of colors. A member of the Pale Guard had found a poster pasted to his backplate, to the amusement of the rest of the guard and the displeasure of the de Rolos.

Some of the de Rolos.

Percy— Percival as he’d insist he be called— was far too refined and proud at the age of 16 to have any interest in a carnival. He couldn’t say the same for some of his siblings. Cassandra, 11 and the youngest of the de Rolo children, was the ringleader of the crowd that had practically begged to be let out to visit the carnival grounds. The twins had been quickest to join her mob, but she’d managed to get her ideas into the head of one of Percival’s older siblings as well. Never let it be said that the de Rolos weren’t trained in the art of persuasion.

_“Julius, you— you’re older than she is! You should know this is a bad idea.”_

_“Sometimes bad ideas bear listening to, Percival.” He wore a smug smile that had only served to infuriate Percival more._

_“That doesn’t make any sense at all and I think you’re well aware of that. You’re an adult! You’re 19! You should know as well as I do that every person in those tents is a different kind of fraud.”_

_“Honestly Percival, being the middle child has somehow made you more stuffy than both mother and father combined. And we’re_ nobility _— we of all people should see the fun in fraud sometimes.”_

The entire conversation had been a confusing waste of time. Not in the last because it had resulted in his parents demanding he take nearly all his siblings to the carnival for a night. That had been… Well. Tense conversations were as close to arguments as noble families got, and that conversation had been tense. In the end, he’d agreed.

Perhaps acquiesced was the more appropriate word.

And that was how Percival found himself the glorified escort to a pack of overly-excited children. Reactions ranged from simply excited to be going out (Oliver, Whitney, and Ludwig) to outrageously smug (Percival couldn’t _believe_ Cassandra and Julius were acting that way). He’d resigned himself to going, but only in the most basic sense of the word. A sketchbook and pen were tucked away in his coat pocket, and he planned to spend as much time as he could sketching, planning, and paying little to no attention to the goings-on around him. He wasn’t even the oldest going; his parents were only forcing him on this trip to prove some petty point about bothering his siblings. Vesper’s birthday was coming up and Percival had nearly completed the plans for a mechanical songbird which would flap its wings and whistle, and seeing as Vesper was the only one of his siblings with the good sense not to get herself involved in this disaster, he had no reservations about finishing the sketches.

The fairgrounds had also managed to materialize overnight. A tent city on the edge of town, instantly recognizable for what it was by the loud colors and louder inhabitants. Whitestone citizens milled about the largest tent talking to each other and carnival personnel. Some crowded around small tents that seemed, at a glance, to house games. The second they reached the edge of the grounds, the de Rolo children scattered to the winds. Only Percival was left in place, staring at the scene around him, searching fruitlessly for a place without so many people that would distract him from his sketchbook.

A quick glance around the grounds showed nothing, anywhere he could reasonably sit was either occupied to the point of overflow or too near a tent to reasonably focus. His eyes landed on the show tent one last time and something like hope lit in his gut. He hadn’t seen anyone go in yet; in fact, he’d seen a tall, pale woman guarding the tent entrance and turning people away. The tent probably wasn’t open yet, but he was sure he could talk his way in.

* * *

Molly was, to put it lightly, fucking bored.

They’d been planning— counting— on visiting Whitestone for weeks now. The towns leading up to this one had been unimpressive on the better end of things. Downright poor on the worse. Whitestone had a genuine noble ruling class and, rumor had it, some of the nicest houses this side of Westruun. And that was the ultimate goal at this point, Westruun. Huge city like that, they could move around it in a circle and get a whole new crowd each night without moving too far. But Whitestone— Whitestone would have to tide them over. With any luck, the nobles would show their faces and Molly’s crew could milk them for every gold they were worth. Nothing lined the pockets quite like a silver tongue and a noble with a persecution complex.

So Molly did what he usually did; he made a show out of himself. He ran around the city the night they arrived, a small competition between he and some of the other performers keeping him going. It was a game they’d come up with to pass the time; who could get their posters in the most impressive place and prove it to the others. He had to admit, Lydia had come close this time by climbing up into the tallest branches of a tree in the town square and sticking some up there. Perhaps if it’d been winter that would have worked, however—

 _“What do you_ mean _I didn’t win? Could_ you _get up there?!”_

 _“That’s my point exactly! Nobody can get up there, and nobody can_ see _up there! It’s the middle of Summer, nobody’s going to see something stuck in the top of this thing!”_

_“Oh— Eat my ass, Ziok.”_

_“Fantastic comeback. Molly, back me up here, that doesn’t get the win.”_

_“I’m afraid I have to agree, Lydia. And honestly, be more careful with your insults. I don’t think you want that beak anywhere near your more sensitive bits. No offense, Ziok, but I hear Tengu are a horrible lay.”_

_Molly was a big enough person to admit he probably deserved the wing to the face he’d gotten for his troubles. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to hit back, much to the amusement of the twins, who got in a good laugh at the scuffle before jumping in to pull the pair apart._

_Molly brushed himself off and started again. “Besides, while the twins did a wonderful job with folding paper darts to throw through windows— I saw a fair few of those, fantastic aim girls—” The twins had beamed with pride when Molly ruffled their heads in each hand. “—I believe I’ve won this one. If you’ll all go watch the guards at the castle, please.”_

_There was a long pause, but Lydia was the first to break the incredulous silence. “Molly, you did not get one on the front doors of the huge fuckoff castle. I tried for half an hour to distract them so I could get up those steps.”_

_“Oh no, not on the doors. Much better. Only one thing better than noticeable advertising— When we spread word of our show to people, it’s because that word moves around. Rumor moves rather quick, I’ve noticed.”_

_It had taken a moment, but the realization swept over the group as one. “You didn’t! Which! Show me the guard!” The commotion of muffled laughter was the only thing around to cause a scene so late._

_"Oh, I’m not sure he’d be too happy to see me around there again. All the talk I had to do to distract him, I doubt he’s going to welcome me back with open arms. Check around the left side from the door, though. Pair of guards stationed right there. Otherwise keep an ear out— I’m sure people will be talking about the guard that got a flyer pasted to his back tomorrow morning."_

Even when Molly wasn’t in the show, he was a show. He got the posters up, got word spread around as people began to wake up and go about their business, offered tarot readings to pique interest as the day moved on. A little rest midday to prepare himself, and then it was showtime. As people started to file into the carnival grounds Molly would run interference for Yasha.  

People would come up, demand to be let in, get angry when they were told the performers weren’t done practicing yet, and Molly would have to lead them away and into going to see, “One of the _stupendous_ smaller points of interest in the meantime— Honestly, watching them perform will just spoil the show for you! But we’ve got games and competitions I bet someone like you would be _great_ at.” People tended not to react well to being told to simply come back later, but a little uptalk, some compliments, a friendly smile, and they were more than willing to go spend extra coin somewhere else before the show.

Speaking of which, one of the ponciest fucks Molly had ever seen was trying to pick an argument with Yasha, and Molly had never been so excited to interfere.

“I’m only looking for a place to sit down and focus, I honestly couldn’t care less about watching you all practice your—”

* * *

 “Well, _hello_ there!”

Percival had to sigh. Another carnival performer, the most ostentatiously dressed yet, was making a beeline for him, smile plastered across his face. That was a smile that said this person had just noticed Percival had money, and was set on taking some of it for himself.

“So I see you’re trying to sneak a peek at our practice. I understand the temptation, really, I do— We can olbe a tempting bunch.” The tiefling punctuated this with a wink, which Percival could only scoff at. If he’d blushed, he would have tried to ignore it, but he didn’t blush. So there was absolutely nothing to ignore.

“Actually, to be perfectly frank, I don’t think I could care less about watching your practice. I’d just like a place to sit and sketch.”

“Well, we can let you in there for that very soon. Let’s at least make sure that if you’re trying to steal secrets about the show you’re paying to see it with everyone else. For now, though, how about you— ah… how about…”

* * *

Instincts were important to Molly. Spend long enough on the road and you’re forced to pick up a few things, including better instincts. The ability to tell when someone was bad news, a better mark, someone who would be quicker talked in circles than goaded into a game; it all added up to better instincts. And Molly relied heavily on his instincts.

So when he began to direct Poncy towards the other tents, and something in him told him to stop and do a reading instead, what was he going to do but listen? It was probably something in him reminding him how much money the guy was worth, anyways, and his knowing on some level not to pass such an impressive mark off on someone else.

He’d trailed off speaking, so he gave Poncy a dramatic one-over before pretending to be struck with an idea. “Ah— you know, you don’t seem like the games type, actually. How about I offer you something special?”

Poncy looked unimpressed.

“I’d planned to stop doing these for the night, but how about I offer you a card reading?” He produced a cloth-wrapped deck from a pocket inside his sleeve with a flourish.

“You can offer me a show with those cards til you turn an even darker purple. That doesn’t mean I’ll be taking it.”

“Oh, come now! I can’t say I won’t be putting on a bit of a show, but I can assure you my readings are far from the lies you’d get from any traveler passing through town.”

“Perhaps. But I’m sure any traveler passing through town would tell me the same thing.” Well, that was one of the smuggest smirks Molly had ever had to suffer through.

“Well, like you said, perhaps. But even if you absolutely staunchly refuse to believe in these, it’s fun to pretend for a night, isn’t it? Let yourself imagine how things would be if these sorts of tricks were real. And I’ll even discount the rate for you! How’s that sound— Ah. Hm. I’m not sure I ever caught your name.”

“That’s because I never offered it. Lord Percival Fredrickstein von Mussel Klossowski de Rolo III.”

Holy shit.

“Holy shit. Mouthful, isn’t that? My name’s Mollymauk, although we’ve been talking long enough that I’d consider us friends. And my friends get to call me Molly.”

“And what lucky people they are, I’m sure. Now, I suppose we’ll be getting to payment sooner or later, so how much is this little magic trick going to run me?”

See, _this_. This is why Molly hated the rich. Were the poor going to cling to every coin? Perhaps, but when you needed every coin to survive, you’d earned the right to a bit of greed. A commoner had to ask how much something cost so he could make sure he’d be able to eat that week. A noble, a royal, someone upper-crust? Greed for the sake of greed. After a certain point, when you didn’t have to worry about money for survival, it became a game. A score. And the rich hoarded every point of it. It was ridiculous.

“Well, like I said, we’re friends, aren’t we? So for you? A single silver will do it just fine. Cutting that price down by more than half, just for you.” He was actually quintupling it, but what were the odds someone like this would know the real value of a single silver? What were the odds he’d even deign to carry copper pieces on him?

Poncy— Percival— reached into his coat, probably for a coin purse secured to his belt. Shame all that money was going to waste on a person like that. A single silver fell into Molly’s outstretched hand.

“Perfect! And if you’ll follow me to my tent, that’ll give us a clean, private place to do this. I don’t particularly want to set my cards down in the dirt, and I doubt you want to sit there.” Molly flashed him a winning smile and waved him along. At least Percival followed directions well.

Now, Molly had been doing what he did for a long time. He’d run countless readings for countless people, and he had a fair few stock’ readings he could fall back on depending on the type of client he was seeing. The rich tended to hear something along the lines of, “You’ll have to make a very important choice soon, and if you follow the correct path you’ll see great luck with your money soon.” Simple, usually correct— rich people were always making decisions about their money— and he’d sometimes substitute the phrasing ‘correct path’ for ‘moral path’. Delivered with enough gravity, this could ensure they were going to stay on the up and up, at least for a little while. You always had to scare folks like that into being good people.

All that being said, stock readings could get… well, they could get dull quickly. Faces blurred together in every city, and when readings began to blur too, Molly could only go so long without going something like stir-crazy. Obviously the way to fix that was to do an honest reading. Or at least, honest in the sense that he wouldn’t be counting cards. While rigged readings tested his dexterity and how quickly he could keep track of his shuffling, honest readings tested his ability to think on his feet. There was always a way to spin a reading into something both vague enough that a client could project onto it and enticing enough for them to pay for clarification cards.

Molly was starting to catch the skittishness that came with not enough variety, and Percival seemed like the type to call out a generic-sounding reading when he heard one. So thinking on his feet it was.

* * *

Percival let Mollymauk lead him off to one of the closed tents off to the side of the main area. Percival realized the tents that games were being run out of were all personal sleeping tents, just in most cases with personal effects moved to the side. Molly hadn’t bothered, likely since he hadn’t expected to be using his tent. He kicked a small pack to the side of the tent, then gingerly moved a bundle of cloth further. Percival caught a vague shape from the cloth draping as it moved— a sword? Swords?

“Ah ah, my life isn’t the one under scrutiny here,” he said as he made his way to sit back on his bed roll. He gestured to the space next to him. Percival obliged and sat.

“Scrutiny?”

“Isn’t that why you agreed to this? Everyone needs a bit of scrutiny every once in awhile.” Percival made a noncommittal noise. He saw Mollymauk’s point, but he wasn’t about to admit to that.

* * *

“Well, let’s get started, shall we?” Molly said, if only to get Percival’s attention away from his swords. He removed the cloth from his cards and made a show of arranging it _just so_ on the mat between them. “Now, Percival— May I call you Percy?”

“No.”

“So, Percy.” Molly had to fight down a laugh in his voice. The grin he wore was that of a performer, he had to leave it empty of snark. "The silver you gave me was my going rate for a basic, three-card spread of the outlook for your future. Of course, I can easily do something else for you if you like, although it may run you a bit extra.”

“No, I think three will be more than enough. Thank you.”

“Alright then. If you’ll indulge me, take these cards. And the whole time you’ve got these in your hands I want you to be thinking about your future, picture anything you’d like to know the outcome of. Cut and shuffle them as many times as you feel appropriate. Traditional is three. After that, take three cards and lay them out in front of you. Again, traditionally it’s the top three cards, although if those don’t feel right you can always spread the deck in front of you and pick three that feel… important is the best way to put it. Ones that stand out to you. Some people say the right cards feel electric when they run their hand over the back.”

“Yes, the imagination is a powerful thing, isn’t it?” For all his deriding, Percy did as asked. Molly watched him count out his cuts and shuffles. He was expecting someone like this to cut once, _maybe_ three times. But he watched Percy methodically separate the cards and shuffle them back together six times, mouthing numbers as he went. He reached six and hesitated, then cut twice more. Molly should have known that at least some of the cynicism was a front. Percy straightened out the final deck, then took the top three cards in a hand.

“Now, before you flip these, would you like me to read these cards as though they were facing you or me?"

“Towards you will be fine.”

“Alright then. Let’s take a look.”

Percy flipped the cards over one at a time, studying each one briefly before moving on. They were beautiful cards, if Molly said so himself. They’d cost him a fortune; they were hand-painted and he’d gotten them in Marquet. That was hardly on Molly’s mind, though. He was more blown away by the fact that poor Percy could be this monumentally unlucky.

Percy laid the cards out one by one, and each was somehow more grim than the last. When he’d finished, there was a long silence as the pair studied the cards. Molly broke the silence first by taking a long inhale through his teeth.

“Well. It’s not good, I’ll tell you that right now.”

“Yes, I’d figured that from the imagery on the cards. Or was the entire deck quite so inviting?”

“Oh, inviting, sure, but they aren’t quite all so bloody fucked up as these. Come on now, say what you mean. So. May as well get this over with. No offense, but this isn’t the type of reading that’s fun to drag out. First up, seven of knives. Reversed too, from my perspective.” Molly and Percy studied the card together; a lithe elven figure swung gracefully from a rope, staring up at the heavens with a placid smile on their face. The rope hung above seven knives, pointed tip-up directly at the figure.

“Generally means traitors, or traitorous intent placed like this. Now, this could be talking about you here, but in conjunction with these other cards— well, I sincerely doubt it. This person, perhaps people, may already be in your midst, or they might rear their heads soon. Either way, keep an eye out. No use in spotting the snake after it’s gone and bit you.”

Percy’s face was inscrutable. Molly got the feeling he didn’t believe a word of this. This was all well and good, since he’d already paid— paid the worth of five of these readings no less— but still. Molly was putting on a show here! The least Percival could do was pretend to appreciate it.

“The next card, the Storm, is… Well, there’s no getting around it. It’s exactly what it sounds and looks like.” A maelstrom of reds, greys, and gold-browns warred each other for dominance on the card’s face, all but obscuring the face of a human trying to break through the chaos in the upper corner of the card.

“A mess, then?”

Molly had to laugh. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it! Right side up, it’d mean there’s an upshot to the disaster that’s about to hit. Reversed again, the upshot is less about good things happening afterwards and more about the whole cataclysm not happening right away. This means there’s something large headed your way soon, and you may have time to prepare for it— batten the hatches, barricade the doors— but it’s going to change everything. Some great pain, something terrible.” This finally elicited a reaction from Percy, although it wasn’t one Molly had been hoping for.

“I’m sorry, did you just _laugh?_ ”

"Yes, well, this is all just so funny. I couldn’t help myself.”

“And what’s funny about it?”

Percy put on an ominous voice. “There’s a traitor in your midst, and something terrible is going to happen soon.” He laughed again, and Molly thought he could feel a vein in his temple bulge. “It’s just so… if you were going to lie to my face you could have picked a lie less dark."

“I’m not sure how much you know about these cards, but I promise you I’m reading these as accurately as possible. And if I may remind you, _you_ are the one who shuffled and cut these. Now would you like to hear the final card, or not?”

“I suppose.”

“Alright. This… is actually an odd card to see at the end of a reading like this. The Intersection, upright. It signifies a choice, and, this being a reading about _your_ future, it’s almost certainly a choice you’ll have to make. Now, if we’re looking at the reading as a whole, then this— and this is purely conjecture on my part, absolute speculation—”

“Yes, because the rest of this reading has been completely scientific.”

“This is likely going to be a choice of revenge.”

Molly was proud of coming up with that tidbit on the spot. Prouder still when it shut Percy up for once. He opened his mouth once, then shut it again and studied the cards. A Celestial woman stared back at him from the final card, her hand outstretched and holding a carefully balance mobile. Each section of the mobile hung another balance, each end hung with painted stones. Always one to press his luck, Molly continued speaking.

* * *

“Together, this paints a coherent picture. Someone is going to betray you and cause a massive upheaval in your life. It’s going to be painful, hard to deal with. And then, when it’s all said and done, you’ll have the choice to either let things lie or take action. That choice is going to have more gravity than anything you’ve ever done, if it ending the reading was any indication.”

Mollymauk looked at Percival gravely, and for once during this reading, Percival didn’t feel the urge to laugh in his face. He got the sense that something did set Mollymauk apart from other travellers in town, and that was that Mollymauk genuinely believed in the power of these readings. That alone wouldn’t lend credit to the reading, but Percival had always been too quick to act on a revenge plot. Even if this reading was a farce, it served as a good reminder of how quickly Percival could get in over his head. Before he could speak, Mollymauk pushed on.

“I could give you a clarification card, let you know how this choice of yours is going to work out. Going price for one of those is two copper per.”

Mollymauk had the gall to look shocked when Percival reached back into his coat. He didn’t carry copper with him but he supposed he wouldn’t miss one more silver piece. “Never let it be said that the de Rolos aren’t a generous bunch.” He dropped a silver on the cloth between them, which Mollymauk snatched up and began to fidget with. “And just the one card, please. I don’t expect five for the silver.”

“I wouldn’t do five more anyways. Main tent’s about to open and I’m not about to make you late. So!” Mollymauk spread the cards out in a clean fan in front of Percival. “Run a hand over the deck and feel it out, study the cards carefully and pick one that speaks to you, close your eyes and throw a finger wildly— the choice is yours.” Percival watched Molly and listened attentively as he spoke, but the second the spiel was over, Percival shot out a hand and grabbed a card.

Later, Percival wouldn’t be able to explain why he’d asked for clarification, or at least why he’d been so decisive when picking a card. He’d call it curiosity, but he’d never be able to say that with complete assurance. The uncertainty would plague him.

“Alright, someone with certainty! Flip it over, let’s see what you were so sure of.” Percival flipped the card and dropped it on top of the Intersection, and Mollymauk’s grin fell with the card. And then, in a blink, it was back— and accompanied by laughter.

Percival stared down at the grinning, taunting faces of terrible creatures peering out of a roiling mass of smoke, hunched over two words: the Devils.

“Well, you’ve got just about the worst luck I’ve ever seen. Sorry to laugh, but sometimes things are just so awful that’s all you can do, yeah?”

Percival was silent.

“Right. So. The Devils. Generally meaning hedonism, temptation and the giving in to it, overindulgence. In the context of your clarification— well, you seem quick, Percy. I’m sure you get it. Worth noting that the Devils don’t tend to signify _good_ things accompanying giving in. You’re going to know revenge is the wrong choice. _If_ this is really about revenge, of course. But you’re going to do it anyways. And I sincerely doubt that’s going to end well for you.”

Percival had to admit, he was amused— unnerved?— by how coherently the cards he’d drawn told a story. Of course, that was what separated a good fraud from a bad one, he supposed. The ability to spin something coherent out of whatever chanced to come up. And that’s what had happened there, chance. It was the same as if he’d happened to draw a bad hand in a card game. Nothing more to it; the only change at all was that the cards in front of him had hideous pictures on them to make a bad hand feel more weighty. It didn't matter. Nothing about it mattered.

* * *

“Well then.” Percy stood, and watched as Molly began to gather and reshuffle his cards. “Thank you for that, it was something entertaining to pass the time.”

“Oh, you rich folk and your manners. Just tell me to fuck off and be done with it.” Molly grinned despite the harsh statement, and the frankness of it made Percy laugh.

“No, I’m afraid that’s all you’ll be getting from me. I should be going, I’ve got to find that pack of—” He sighed. “If the tent’s open I’m sure they’re inside already, and then it’s hopeless trying to get the lot of them together.”

“Oh, how did we know the kids were with you?” Nobles and their giant families. Molly was shocked he hadn’t seen a pack of guards following each one around.

Percy winced. “I’m sorry. I hope they didn’t cause too much trouble—”  
  
“Oh, nonsense. We love children! Especially unsupervised children with money.”

“I’m sure you do.” Molly finished toying with hi cards, and wrapped them in the cloth once more; a flick of his wrist and the cards were safely up in his sleeve pocket. He stood and was surprised to see a hand in front of him, though he shook it out of habit.

“Thank you for all this. I hope the rest of the night is as generous to you as I’ve been.”

“As do I. Enjoy the show, Poncy.” And before he could hear any objections to the nickname, he spun Percy around by the shoulder and gave him a shove out of the tent. Percy whirled back around to say something and was met by Molly dropping the tent flap right in his face. Molly laughed to himself, and laid back on his bedroll. He took the cards back out and began to shuffle them absentmindedly, getting them back into the approximate order he preferred for fake readings.

He let Percy fade, let his face become one of the countless in the crowd of people who had been his clients prior. The reading had been implausibly dark, but it was bound to happen eventually when letting clients shuffle their own cards. It was all a game of chance; enough hands drawn and that one had to come up eventually. Molly just didn’t envy the person who drew it.

* * *

Percy, meanwhile, managed to get out the door in time to catch the very first of his siblings before they made it in the main tent. He gathered them up, ignoring Julius’ snide comments about finding something more fun than standing in the corner with a stick up his ass. They got seats near the front so all the youngest could see, and near enough to a rip in the tent for Percy to have enough light to sketch by.

He tried his hardest to focus on the bird’s blueprints, but if anyone asked, the clamor of the show distracted him too badly to do measurements in his head. In reality, he hadn’t been able to focus on the show either— he found himself drawing absentmindedly, consumed by thoughts of a traitor amidst the de Rolos.

He’d later go back in his sketchbook to tear out page after page of scribbled black smoke clouds, punctuated occasionally by solid black eyes staring out at him.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone catch the meaning behind Percy’s numbers when he cut the cards? He was counting one cut for each one of his siblings, minus himself. The hesitation was him realizing he should add his parents into the count as well. And the designs I referenced when describing the tarot cards were my own deck, the Slow Holler tarot deck! They’re an absolutely gorgeous set of Southern Gothic inspired cards I’d encourage everyone to check out if I could. They rename some of the cards to be more theme-appropriate, so the corresponding cards drawn in a regular deck would be the seven of swords, the Tower, and Justice. The Devils is a fairly obvious one, although I changed this one to be plural to better fit the setting, and I completely made up the design on it.


End file.
